


i like the way he fights

by hannahoftheinternet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Bickering, Crushes, Feelings Realization, M/M, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Nudity, POV Harry Potter, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-17 01:44:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13648842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahoftheinternet/pseuds/hannahoftheinternet
Summary: Harry and Draco fight over the little things, until a very big thing comes up.





	i like the way he fights

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt from tumblr was "roommates au+bickering." Hope I did it justice!

Harry was half-asleep at his desk, amidst piles of bills and taxes. Gentle music played on the wireless. The idea was that he’d put his head down for just a little while and recollect his senses, but time had run away with him. The air was cool and the lights were off. It was ideal for sleep and-

The door banged open and Harry started awake. “Huh?”

“Sleeping on the job, are we?” Draco huffed.

“If you helped, it might go faster,” Harry returned, picking up a pen and proffering it to his flatmate.

Malfoy ( _ Draco, Harry urged his mind) _ waved the iron he was holding in response. “Forget it. I’ve got my own things to do.”

“No use griping at me, then.” Harry tallied up heat and electric costs.

“Whatever, Potter.” As Draco made to leave, he turned back around and brandishing the iron at him again. “And another thing-”

“Shouldn’t you call me Harry?” Harry interrupted. “We’ve been flatmates for three months. I call you Draco and we’re not in school anymore.”

Draco rubbed a hand over his navel. “It’s habit more than anything else.”

“Habits can be broken.”

Draco pursed his lips, his brow furrowing.

What were you going to say?” prompted Harry. “Before I interrupted you. I’m sorry.”

The blond man fixed him with a gray stare, his eyes less harsh in the absence of artificial light. “You keep the house so goddamn cold. Why are you playing with the thermostat all the time?”

“You know I hate the heat. It’s not my fault you’re practically running a Turkish bath all the time in here.” He felt the pricking of anger at the base of his throat and swallowed hard. “Maybe we can find a happy medium. Twenty degrees?”

Draco looked like he was going to say something snarky, but he held his tongue. “Twenty. I’ll change it now,” he acquiesced. Then he left, closing the door behind him, and Harry flopped back with a sigh.

***

“This is all your fault,” he told Hermione later that afternoon, once he’d finished the bills. Ron snorted to himself and made no move to defend his girlfriend. The three of them were sitting in The Leaky Cauldron, drinking bad beer and doing their weekly catching up. “‘’You should make amends with Malfoy, Harry. It might help in the future, Harry.’”

“Hasn’t it?” Hermione said mildly. “You don’t hate each other, and now you don’t have to do laundry or pay all of the bills yourself.”

“He likes to walk around starkers!” Harry hissed. Ron chucked even louder. “And it’s not funny, it’s really fucking weird.”

Ron coughed. “It’s a little funny. Seen anything interesting?”

Harry very maturely threw a wad of napkins at him. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Honestly, it’s like you two never evolved past third year,” Hermione chided. “Anyway, Harry, it’s a wonder you and Malfoy haven’t brutally murdered each other yet.”

“That’s another thing.” Harry drained his mug and set it aside. “We’ve been living together for three months and he still calls me ‘Potter’ in that damn smug voice of his. I feel like I’m back at Hogwarts with all that teenage angst.”

Ron cocked an eyebrow. Harry knew he thought he looked cool when he did it, but really he looked a bit stupid. Neither Harry nor Hermione thought to tell him this. “To be fair, your teenage angst was mostly caused by someone trying to murder you every few months for seven years.”

Harry shrugged. “I have to go. The DMLE wants me to file a report on that werewolf I tracked down earlier in the week.”

“When are you going to submit your request to start teaching at Hogwarts?” Ron asked, cringing at the beer and pushing it towards Harry’s empty mug.

“When I’ve got my own place.”

***

It was past sundown when Harry finally got home. He hung his keys on the holder, dropped his cloak on the floor by the mantle (he’d pick it up after he’d had some food) and had just opened the pantry when-

“Ah!”

The sound was, of course, emitting from Draco’s bedroom. Harry ought to have been used to it by then; his flatmate was always bringing some guy around for a shag. But it wasn’t the sort of thing one could really get used to.

He hated it. Hated hated hated it. Anger always began to flare in his stomach when one of Draco’s friends was around, inexplicable, ridiculous anger. He tried to ignore the passionate noises, but his hands were shaking slightly and the water pitcher was slightly wet. The plastic jug slipped from his hands with an almighty crash, sending water all over the tiles.

Absurdly, Harry started giggling to himself. He leant against the counter, pressing a hand over his mouth to keep from making too loud a noise. He stayed there until Draco’s friend, a skinny young man with an apprentice Obliviator cloak fastened messily over his shoulders, had written his Floo address on a piece of parchment and hurried out the door.

Harry smirked at Draco, who was shirtless and giving him a sour look. “Sorry.”

Draco sighed and tore the Obliviator’s address into several pieces. “You’re so undignified, Pot- Harry. Honestly, you couldn’t let me have an hour of peace.”

“You couldn’t have been that into him,” Harry pointed out, gesturing at the ripped parchment with his wand and casting a Drought Charm at the same time. The puddle evaporated into thin air.

“That’s none of your concern, thank you.” Draco deposited the remnants of parchment in the fireplace. “I’m going to Diagon Alley tomorrow at eleven. Need anything?”

“I need a boyfriend,” Harry mused, not really listening. Draco was examining a bite mark on his bare chest and it made Harry weirdly upset. His flatmate had a nice chest, though.

Draco chuckled dryly. “No amount of Galleons in the world could get you that.”

Harry’s head snapped up and he stared at Draco, who was in the process of flopping down on the sofa. “Did you just make a joke about my relationship status?”

“I most certainly did not.”

***

It was two weeks after that incident and Draco had walked past Harry’s open door naked yet again when Harry had a very important epiphany.

He had a crush on Draco Malfoy.

It explained a lot. Why Harry hated it when his flatmate brought other guys home, why his eyes lingered so much…

Harry smacked his head onto the desk. A crush was very inconvenient.

It took him another few days to express himself. He wasn’t one of those people who pined endlessly, thank Merlin, but he was still quivering nervously when he finally decided to bring the subject up.

They were sat in the lounge space, Harry watching telly and Draco curled up in his armchair reading a novel of some sort.

_ Here goes nothing. _

“D’ya want to have dinner with me?” Harry let the words out in a rush.

“We have dinner together all the time.”

“No, I mean-” Harry chewed on his lip. “-as more than my flatmate.”

Draco squinted at him and for a horrible moment, Harry was afraid he would snap at him or just get up and then leave. But then he said, “I thought you’d never ask.”

Harry beamed at him, happiness filling his chest up and making him into a sappy fool. “So did I.”

Then, as if pulled by some invisible string, Draco rose and planted himself in front of Harry, leaning over him. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Okay,” squeaked Harry.

And Draco did.


End file.
